The Adventures of My Cousin Smooth eBook

“‘You need not be alarmed, Mr. Smooth,’
continued John, modifying somewhat his natural crisp:
’I am painfully sensible of our diplomatists
having played the donkey; but why should you, being
far removed from the scene of strife, nor having immediate
interest in the game, desire to burn a finger in it?
Be a man of sense—­watch kings and kingcraft—­go
your way home in peace, and let peace be your glorious
triumph over war!’ From John such advice was
valuable. Acknowledging the joys and comforts
of peace, we shook hands,—­I wished John
well with his fighting, and we parted. I could
not however, resist the conviction that John knew
not for what he fought so bravely, and might have
maintained his position as the greatest cock of the
dunghill without sorrow to the homes of his people,
and desolation into the land of his long tried and
most dependable friend. Who can foretell the
ways of a Napoleon. Oh! ambition, ambition!

CHAPTER XIV.

DONE BROWN IN DOWNING-STREET.

“Few would have supposed that when Minister
Smooth left General Pierce and his waggish cabinet
he would so soon have taken a turn round the world,
and fetched up in that world of misery and wealth called
London. But the world has got very fast, and only
a fast man can keep up with it. Indeed, it were
well we set about doing things fast, instead of so
thinking them over in the mind that they seem immovable
as mountains. Well, there was in London just about
this time much waste of that sort of small talk newspapers
now and then deal largely in, (editors are always
kind enough to consider themselves great warriors),
concerning our very spunky Captain Ingraham, who, they
said, had Kosta safe under his guns, and would blow
Austria to nobody knew where. The whole, however,
only amounted to the simplest evidence of what there
was in sympathy and the Saxon heart. To our Christian
friends would we say—­none of these things
moved Smooth from his equilibrium. After all,
come to the true philosophy of the thing, and it only
amounted to a broil among small bullies. And,
too, did the little skipper not take care of himself
he was no Yankee, and the whole United States would
know it to his discredit.

“General Pierce, too, being a fighting President,
(not a doubt could exist since the bombardment of
Greytown), would take good care of the whole thing
(perhaps send to Congress a message blazing with the
language of war). Could it turn a point to his
own advantage, he would—­right or wrong—­send
a fleet to whip Austria, to make her something.

“But let us turn to a subject more fruitful.
London seemed like a great waste of dingy dwellings
and badly constructed palaces, the whole sleeping
under a canopy of sickly smoke. Everything wore
a sombre, heavy air—­even the men seemed
born to methodize on some one object. Show-shops,
beer-shops, and gin-palaces, made the very air reek
with their stifling fumes. Above all, there were